First Strike
*Author's Note: This is NOT a political story. It's a love story set in the backdrop of a nuclear strike on America. I'm a Libertarian, so any reference to any political issue is not an indication that I'm a "MAGA Republican" or some "bleeding heart liberal."
Since the pandemic I've taken a serious interest in China. Prior to that, I focused on Russia which is definitely a threat, but not as serious as China. China has publicly said it intends to be the world's dominate power by 2049, the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party. It has also said repeatedly that Taiwan is sovereign Chinese territory and that it will reunite the 'renegade island' with the mainland.
I don't get paid to write, and the only reason I do is because I enjoy it. So any expectation that my research be thorough and my writing perfectly reflect any given topic is unrealistic. In this story I discuss 'prepping' or being a survivalist. Ham radio comes up. I'm no expert in both, so if you see a flaw, let it go. I can't watch military shows that have improper uniforms. It drives me crazy. Hollywood has a budget. And staffs. I don't. No need to email me and inform me about the correct call sign letters or some nitnoid fact about living in a bunker, okay? It's just a story. A story you can read for free.
The specific scenario I lay out is unlikely. However, it's not impossible. I can easily see America getting dragged into a war with China or even in Israel. We're already financially involved in Ukraine, and things can spiral out of control very, very rapidly.
That said, it really is just a story. A romantic story, at that.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it.
Cheers!
*****
"Ryan? You working tomorrow?" his father asked.
"No. It's Saturday, Dad."
His father laughed then reminded him how many Saturdays he'd worked over the last couple of months. He knew because he owned the only construction company in Lander, Wyoming, the little town of about 7,000 he'd retired to after 37 years in the Navy.
Steven Griffin had been a vice-admiral which meant he wore three stars on his collar. When he finally hung up his spurs it wasn't because he wanted to. It was due to the Navy letting him know it didn't have another job for him. At that time he was the commander of the US Pacific Fleet and had every reason to believe there'd be a fourth star in his future and another command.
But when two ships collided at night, the old saying aside, something that he still couldn't believe could happen with all of the sophisticated electronics onboard both vessels, the Navy told him he was done. Like all commanders in any branch of the military, he was responsible for EVERYTHING that happened or failed to happen anywhere at anytime under his command. He'd been a thousand miles away when the collision took place, but it was still his responsibility. The two captains had been relieved of their commands as had their immediate CO (commanding officer.)
The Navy magnanimously let him keep his job, but he was forced to retire, and he knew that was the best the Navy he so loved could do.
His wife, Anna, was an author who wrote children's books, and she'd published over a dozen during the 25 years they were married. Between the two of them and the modest lifestyle they lived, Admiral Griffen had retired with a net worth just north of $2 million, not at all unusual for a flag officer, a term used to describe admirals and generals.
When they moved to Lander, a place they'd dreamed of living in and where they built their dream home, Steven realized another dream of his and bought a construction company from a man who'd owned it for nearly 40 years. He was ready to retire, and Steven wasn't.
He'd been a SEABEE up to and including his time as a rear admiral (two-star rank), but all admirals and generals were expected to be capable of commanding any unit in their respective service or any joint task force that included other services.
Something most people didn't know was that there were no promotions after a second star. There were only appointments made that required the consent of the Senate. In effect, it meant that some four-star or perhaps even the president had their eyes on some two-star and would then recommend him or her for appointment to three-star rank. The same was true for the four-star ranks.
So when he was nominated to command the Pacific Fleet and for the third star, he needed Senate approval. Once it came he wasn't promoted but rather appointed a vice admiral and given one of the most prestigious commands in the US Navy. He would later again require Senate approval to retire above the two-star rank which he received.
Post-retirement, Steven's guys and one tough gal, built their home with Steven pitching in himself as often as he could, as did his then 15-year old son, Ryan. Even Anna did a fair share of manual labor, but decorating was her forte, and she did an incredible job making the 3,800sqft, two-story house into a warm, inviting home. Before that, it was just a box, but her sense of style made it a dream come true.
Ryan was an excellent student, and with the exception of two Bs he got the year they moved, mostly due to missing the last weeks of school, he'd been a straight-A student all of his life. He loved learning, and when his dad bought the company, he turned his attention to learning construction and as much as he could about plumbing, HVAC, and electrical work.
He played sports in high school and was, by far, the most popular boy in school. He had the look of a surfer except that Ryan wasn't blond. He had very dark hair, was athletic, handsome, and also kind and polite. Their only neighbors, the Clausens, who were in their early 30s and had no children, had been more than a little concerned to see a teenage boy moving in.
Granted, they were a good 50 yards away and no one else was closer than a mile away, but still....
Their opinion changed, for one of them, anyway, after her husband was killed while flying in a gyrocopter. He loved flying, had money, and that allowed him play with all kinds of things that flew. He'd been an investment banker who, after making a ton of money, realized it didn't make him happy. He yearned for a simpler life, and he and his wife...landed...in Lander.
When he crashed into the side of a small mountain a few miles away from their home where he'd built a large helo pad, the NTSB came to little Lander to investigate. They could find no mechanical reason, and in the end, they were forced to declare it was due to pilot error. What they couldn't know was that he'd been deeply depressed for months, something he didn't share with anyone, not even his beautiful wife, Kodie. Evidently, not even peace and quiet was able to bring him peace of mind.
He was 33 and she was 31 when it happened, and Ryan spent a lot of time taking care of everything around the house for her. He was just a high school student, but she was duly impressed with his work ethic, his thirst for knowledge, and his willingness to do anything she even hinted about. He not only never complained, he was always happy no matter what he was doing and often dropped everything to lend her a hand.
Kodie Clausen (nee Barber) grew up in Portland, Oregon, and had moved to Chicago with her late husband where he made his fortune in less than seven years after graduating from the prestigious Wharton School of Business. When her late husband told her out the blue one day that he wanted to move to the middle of nowhere she was sick to her stomach.
They were a kind of real life "Green Acres" couple where the wealthy lawyer and the socialite from the 1960s show ended up living in the fictitious town of Hooverville so he could grow crops and live the American dream--while wearing a suit at all times. The show's theme song spelled out her feelings when it said, "Green Acres is the place to be. Farm livin' is the life for me," where the husband, Oliver Wendell Douglas was concerned. His wife, Lisa, was represented in the other half of the song, "I just adore a penthouse view. Darling I love you but give me Park Avenue."
She didn't need Park Avenue, but she loved the buzz of the big city, and couldn't imagine living in that kind of isolation. But like Lisa Douglas, Kodie Clausen followed her husband to 'Booger Holler'. Over time, though, she came to love the peace and quiet and even the stark landscape. Even after her husband's untimely death, she refused to leave and had no plans of ever doing so.
As far as finding another husband went, the pickins in Lander were less than slim. That was fine, too, as she was content to live alone, although there were times when the huge house she lived in felt more like a prison than a home. Those time were rare, though, and for the vast majority of her days, she loved everything about it and little Lander.
Ryan continued being there for her even when his mother died a year later from a cerebral hemorrhage. No one had even an inkling of a problem. There'd been no headaches nor anything else to prompt concern, but late one night while she lay sleeping, it happened. Steven didn't even wake up as she made no noise at all. She simply slipped the bonds of earth, and in the morning she was gone.
"What's cookin', Dad?" Ryan asked after being asked about his schedule.
"I have something I want to show you."
